


Why Manipulate Others, When You Can Tear Down Others' Manipulations

by InterPlanetaryGirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cunning Harry, Dumbledore Bashing, Father-Son Relationship, First Year AU, Gen, Good Tom Riddle, Harry Frees Sirius, Harry Potter is a Little Shit, Harry has a snake, Harry's snake is sassy at times, Helpful Neville, Hermione Granger Bashing, Intelligent Harry, Neville is a Good Friend, Parental Sirius Black, Sarcastic Harry, Sassy Harry, Slightly - Freeform, Slytherin Harry, Snape is still a dick, Weasley Bashing, like one time but implied other times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-29 22:19:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12094665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterPlanetaryGirl/pseuds/InterPlanetaryGirl
Summary: His first problem was meeting the Weasley boy on the train, who was only fascinated with his title and scar.Then the pompous blond came to find him, also wanting him for his title since he certainly doesn’t need him for his money from the sounds of it but had taken no interest in him when they met at the robe shop initially, but Harry rejects his friendship despite scolding Weasley for making fun of his name, simply because he doesn’t want to be friends with either of the type.~~~In which Harry doesn't care for school rivalries and wants to learn, who cares if the rest of the school and it's headmaster is against him? Harry knows something is up and he's going to fix it, somehow.





	Why Manipulate Others, When You Can Tear Down Others' Manipulations

**Author's Note:**

> If you like Ron or Dumbledore I suggest turning away now bc I don't really like them at all and I kinda make it obvious even if they aren't brought up TOO often but hey, just a warning. There is also a brief mention of rape threats towards the end made in reference to what another person has said to Harry but...yeah, just saying.

Harry James Potter, at ten - nearly eleven - years old, thought he could say he had a fairly unfortunate life. His parents were murdered by a man he didn’t know when he was fifteen months old (or thereabouts he would guess - some facts are a little fuzzy) then the next thing he knew was that he was shipped off to live with his aunt and uncle despite the fact the dog-man, Padfoot/Siri, was always the one to take care of him when his mum and dad didn’t or couldn’t. 

For the next nine and a half years he was hit and smacked around for their own delight, chased by dogs and bullies alike, punished for just about anything his relatives could think of, including completing his own school work, not completing the impossible list of chores they gave him, or even just opening his mouth at times. 

Most often it was because he could do something that could only otherwise be achieved with by magic, a word he was not even allowed to whisper in the dead of night when he was the only one awake. 

But, he supposes, he could have it worse. He appreciates the things he has, even if he doesn’t  _ like _ them. And he is thankful for the fact he can go to school and learn - even if he can’t demonstrate what he learns - and he’s thankful for the fact he can go to the library, too, even if it was initially because it was a hiding place Dudley and his friends wouldn’t even think to look for him, and then he discovered simply  _ how much  _ he can learn. 

Harry knows he remembers everything, almost. 

Everything he reads, at least. Since getting his glasses, anyway. 

So Harry knows there is something different about the letter that arrives for him when it details his cupboard, and Harry lets them find it, simply to find out what will happen. 

And a lot does, but Harry is more excited to find out about this world he’s being introduced to, even if he thinks Hagrid isn’t the most qualified person to be showing him this sort of thing - he admits he was expelled from Hogwarts in his third year which really doesn’t make Harry any more confident. 

And Harry, he’s the saviour of their world and practically revered for something he knows he did, logically, but never knew the consequences for, and is now only just seeing. 

They go to Gringotts and he’s told it’s his trust vault that they visit, which makes him take note of the fact he might have other vaults that he can’t yet access, because trust funds are set up by parents. 

The trip goes fine, for the most part, and despite the pompous blond he met he feels like Hogwarts will be a good place for him. 

* * *

Unfortunately, he was wrong.

* * *

So, incredibly, wrong. 

* * *

His first problem was meeting the Weasley boy on the train, who was only fascinated with his title and scar. 

Then the pompous blond came to find him, also wanting him for his title since he certainly doesn’t need him for his money from the sounds of it but had taken no interest in him when they met at the robe shop initially, but Harry rejects his friendship despite scolding Weasley for making fun of his name, simply because he doesn’t want to be friends with either of the type. 

Weasley sulked for the rest of the ride after that, especially when Harry only bought a chocolate frog and a pumpkin pasty without no offer to share despite the fact Weasley’s eyes had practically lit up with galleon symbols when he pulled out a handful of gold galleons and silver sickles (he really has no idea how to estimate pricings here). 

A girl came barging in (rude, if you ask him) before proceeding to be bossy and show off, then left after telling them to get ready as if everything she said was law.

He was sorted into Slytherin, then.

* * *

 

_ Hmm, difficult. VERY difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either. There's talent, oh yes. And a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?  _

_ Isn’t that your job?  _

_ Yes, but, Young Heir, you are perfect for every house if you so wished to go to them.  _

_ Where will I do great?  _

There was really no question in it, it seemed. 

* * *

He wasn’t really fussed with the houses and their petty rivalry, from what Weasley had rambled about before sulking, and he had read about their traits - cunning, ambitious, determined - all things he felt he was or could be. 

The hall was silent when Slytherin was called out, but Harry held his head high and kept his face and back straight as he walked towards the table, sitting on the end of the bench and waited for the sorting ceremony end. 

He ate in silence and nobody spoke to him. They looked, though, and whispered about him and it annoyed him. He thought he wouldn’t be stared at here if they were all for subtlety and cunning. But you can’t always get what you want, a lesson Harry learnt early on. 

Their Head of House told them that they were a united front out there, where everybody could see, or else they’d be picked off like food for vultures, and they were always to travel in pairs at least.

However that didn’t mean to say they were a united front in the comfort of their own dungeons. 

Harry learnt this the hard way. 

It probably didn’t help that his Head of House seemed to take his presence personally and tried to humiliate him in every class, probably carrying on just with the hope he can catch Harry out. 

Lucky for himself, Harry read everything he could get his hands on in his initial trip to Diagon Alley, including advanced books, or books not included in any of the sections for future years.

* * *

Harry spent most of his time in the library since it was made obvious he wasn’t welcome in the dungeons. 

* * *

The Headmaster, Dumbledore, had offered to let him have a resort on the second day, and Harry almost felt compelled to agree when he felt a wave of foreign magic wash over him before he shook himself out of it and told him no, he was happy where he was. 

He wasn’t, but he didn’t want to make out that Slytherins were worse than they already were, and he was a Slytherin, he knew. 

Not to mention, all the other houses look at him strangely, or like he’s evil, Voldemort reincarnate. Weasley started talking about how he knew he was an evil slimy slytherin the moment he met him. A lie, of course, but apparently works to make him look good. 

Actually the only person who spoke to him on friendly terms was Neville Longbottom, a Gryffindor who was ostracized from his own house because he wasn’t Gryffindor enough, supposedly. 

They became acquaintances when Harry stole Neville’s remembrall back from Draco when the boy took it during their flying class. Harry hated bullies, but it was better to work after a couple of days and without him initially realising it (making sure he didn’t want to actually use it as nothing more than a trophy he kept hidden) than making a fool of himself in front of everybody like Weasley tried to - and that was just a laughable experience if he’s honest. 

Anyway, Harry thought talking to a student who was ostracised by the entire school was a brave thing to do. 

Neville helped him, actually, told him what he could about the Potter family. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to prompt him to write to Gringotts about a meeting with his accounts manager. 

It was almost Halloween when he did it, owled Gringotts that is, and he was feeling quite confident about it.

* * *

 

**Sssstupid humanssss** he heard on his way back, just at the bottom of the owlery. He looked around momentarily before he spotted a deep red tail flick around the side of the building, he followed it around. 

**Hello** , Harry said once the snake was in his sight.  **Who are you?**

**Ssssspeaker? Who are you? I have no name, but I am female.**

**My name is Harry. Do you want to come with me? I mean, you’d have to stay out of sight a lot, but I would be able to get you food often, and keep you warmer.** The snake was very clearly thinking about it for a long time before Harry decided to sit, thankfully out of sight of most people unless they deliberately came around the side. She started to slither closer and he automatically held his hand out to her. She flicked her tongue at him before sliding into his sleeve, up his arm, and eventually settling around his neck, though thankfully out of sight. 

**I will come with you speaker Harry. You will give me food and warmth and I shall give you company. You smell lonely.** Harry flushed in slight embarrassment at that, the fact the snake could smell it.  **You shall also give me a name,** she decided as Harry stood. 

**Hiss when I say one you like. Áine? Alice? Sasha? Katarina? Millie, Fiona, Aliya, Dalya, Grace, Ridley,** she hissed.  **Ridley? You like that?**

**I do like that. It sounds nice,** she affirms, which honestly makes Harry feel a little better. Quickly he took her to the kitchens (something he found while wandering and happening to stumble upon the Weasley twins and following their footsteps after they exited) to get her some meat to eat before going to his afternoon classes. 

* * *

Frankly, Harry refused to go near the dungeons if Quirrell knew there was a troll there (which he honestly doubted, something just didn’t seem right about it) so instead he went to the kitchens and helped the elves make raspberry and white chocolate muffins. 

They were delicious, and he could tell that some people were disappointed when he came back - he found out the next day a girl was severely injured by the troll and it’s antics when it found it’s way into the girls bathroom. 

Whyever Snape was limping, however, Harry found himself smirking internally at it, serves the man right in some twisted karmic form in his opinion. 

* * *

Another month found him on the receiving end of several brutal hexes and injuries caused by some older Slytherins who couldn’t stand him being the way he was - intelligent, clearly magically gifted, and the favourite of every teacher aside from Professor Snape. 

He’d been on the receiving end of a few sharp stinging hexes throughout the year so far and had built up even more of a tolerance to pain and different types because of it, but he was outnumbered and outmatched, no matter how many times his magic began to lash out in an attempt to defend himself subconsciously. He refused to go to the nurse though, and simply waited for his magic to feel whole again before attempting to relieve any of the worse injuries - one of which was a broken wrist. 

He ripped up an oversized top that used to belong to Dudley and used it to wrap his hand as tightly as he could before spelling it invisible so that nobody would see it and went about his day as usual, thankful it wasn’t his writing hand. 

* * *

December twenty-third, at midnight, was when he had arranged his meeting with the goblins, once again thanking Magic that they were open all day every day for cases like this. They had mailed him a portkey which would work, as long as he got out of the Hogwarts wards. 

That would be easy enough as long as he could get into the forbidden forest. 

Again, however, that was easy enough since nobody paid any attention to him. 

**You’re always telling me what I can’t eat and bite! What about what I** **_can_ ** **eat! Don’t bite the students, Ridley, don’t bite the animals in the castle, Ridley, stop trying to eat my pillows Ridley!** Harry laughs at her. 

**I always give you the food you can eat! And believe me, Rids, you wouldn’t like the taste of pillows. After this meeting we’ll make some improvements to your diet come summer. If you want to bite some people, I have the perfect people in mind, don’t you worry. You won’t get to eat them. I wouldn’t let you do that because they’ll make you ill,** he tells her as they pass the ward boundary, now they just have to wait ten minutes for the portkey to activate itself. 

**Tell me about them, my hatchling!**

**They’re very cruel people, rude, horrible. Very fat, two of them, insensitive. Dumb as a rock. Though maybe that’s an insult to rocks,** he laughs. 

**How do you know such people hatchling!**

**They raised me, if you can call it that. I lived with them and acted as their slave, essentially.**

**I will bite them many times,** she vows. Harry laughs again. 

**Thank you my sweet.** They look up when they hear something in the bushes, and a cloaked figure walks, almost floats, towards them. It doesn’t come closer than a few feet away, but Harry is just wishing the portkey would hurry up and activate. 

For nearly three minutes, they simply stood across from each other, until there’s a tug at his navel and he disappears from sight to the middle of the Gringotts atrium. 

* * *

He learns a lot. 

He learns his full name is Harrison James Potter-Black, and that he is the heir to all four Hogwarts Founders, on top of several other important families including Peverell and Emrys. He learns that he has the most votes out of the entire Wizengamot and could easily outvote the majority of decisions. 

On the topic of Wizengamot, Dumbledore, had been using his votes without his permission to retain the Chief Warlock position and pass bills that (just from first glance) he doesn’t agree with. 

He also took money and artifacts from Harry’s vaults without any permission and he was  _ paying the goddamn Dursleys _ . 

Harry writes a letter to go along with the one written by his father talking about the secret keeper of the Fidelius charm, asking to keep it as quiet as possible as well as informing her of a list of crimes committed against Harry alone, telling Amelia Bones as the head of the DMLE to investigate more into it before releasing the information - otherwise Dumbledore would simply use all of his favours and connections to get out of any and all charges pressed against him. 

He was not really subtle in mentioning his list of heir-titles as well as his status in this world, on top of mentioning what a shame it would be if it was released to the Daily Prophet, discovered that the ministry tried to cover up the imprisonment of an innocent without a trial since Peter Pettigrew was alive, according to the goblins - and who’s going to tell them they’re wrong without evidence? 

Harry already began forming a plan for what to do when Sirius was free - hopefully by summer - so that they could go and reside in either a villa in Italy, or a chalet in France, since those were the two properties he could enter without needing to be emancipated - something he wasn’t granted yet. 

* * *

Two weeks later and nothing had hit the papers at all, thankfully, when Harry received a letter from Amelia Bones with the news that Sirius’ trial had found him one hundred percent innocent and would be in the hospital to help improve his physical and (surprisingly intact) mental health until Harry left school for summer. 

There was also a copy of the reparations that were signed by Minister Fudge himself that the ministry would be paying to Sirius. 

Harry knew people looked at him strangely when he chuckled darkly before glancing at the Headmaster with a glare and then standing up to walk out. 

Some people would swear they heard some hissing come from his robes, but mostly dismiss it as their imagination. 

* * *

**Ridley, I swear to Merlin get back here!** Harry hissed quietly, trying to not be caught out of the dorms since it was 3am and Ridley had woken him before insisting he come with her to meet somebody. 

When Ridley led him into the girl's’ bathroom on the second floor, he was about to just leave her to it and turn around to go back to bed. 

**Open,** she hisses, then,  **Stairs.** Harry could only stare before hurrying to catch up when the sink opened and led down into a dark tunnel, only to be illuminated by a lumos Harry cast as he tried to not slip down the stairs. He simply followed Ridley since she seemed to know what she was doing here, listening to her when she told him to close his eyes. 

**Feidlimid! I brought my hatchling! I told you he would come!** She hissed, very obviously happy. 

**Are his eyes closed? I do not want to kill him accidentally.** The voice was older, more wizened, but female still. Harry frowns slightly, he’s researched everything he can in the library, including irrelevant things, but he remembers them nonetheless. The point is, the only snake - as it will obviously be a type of snake if he can understand them - that can kill people when looked at is a basilisk. 

Harry has to take several moments to sort through this. He isn’t sure how to react but he makes sure to keep his eyes closed as he hears a snake slither over the stone cold floor - he’s only wearing socks, a stupid thought on his part, but he hardly expected to be going into a chamber where there were bones scattered and damp floors. 

The basilisk - Feidlimid, apparently - comes closer and leans down until he feels her breath on on his face, feels the flicking of her tongue against his face and holds his breath. 

**You are fine, little hatchling, my stare will not kill you. You may open your eyes,** she tells him. Slowly, he opens one eye, followed by the other when nothing happens. He breathes a sigh of relief and Feidlimid gives a hissy chuckle as she backs up.  **You may look around, nothing will bring you harm. Fifty years ago my last hatchling came down and enjoyed reading the books kept in my Master’s old study, he would speak about how to make the wizarding world a lot better, and would conjure me rabbits, lots of rabbits.**

**I’m sorry, I’m not very good at conjuring yet, but I’ll get better and then I’ll conjure you lots of rabbits as well,** he promised. 

Voldemort, he already knows he was the last heir to come. Tom Marvolo Riddle, as he had learnt, was the primary heir to Slytherin line, while secondary to the Gryffindor line, while it was the other way around for Harry, primary heir to Gryffindor and secondary to Slytherin. He thought it was actually quite funny that he had unintentionally named his snake after the man.

For the night, however, he left, so that he could be in the dorm when he woke up, but promised to return. 

* * *

Harry did return, a lot, not venturing into the library just yet, because all of Tom’s work was in the office. Ridley often spent with Limi when they were down there as Harry read up on everything Tom Riddle had written, all the drafts of bills he wanted to work on passing when he joined the ministry but never got to actually do. 

Another month and Harry walked into the library, after finding some of his writings on horcruxes and was startled to find a painting of both Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor. 

For several moments he simply stared open mouthed until Slytherin raised his eyebrow and Harry coughed before righting himself and standing straighter. 

“Good evening,” he starts, unsure of how to properly greet them. “I’m Harrison James Potter,” he introduces. 

“Potter? I remember Thomas complaining about them when he came down here. Something about not living up to their potential - once we told him that the Gryffindor and Slytherin lines were tied. What year is it?” 

“Nineteen ninety-two, March,” he adds. 

“Fifty years,” Gryffindor murmurs. “How did you find here?” 

“My snake, Ridley, she found Limi and introduced us. I’ve been coming for about a month to read everything Tom wrote. I found his notes on horcruxes and wanted to know more - I don’t understand them,” he explained. 

“And what has changed? We are unable to leave this portrait and cannot talk to other portraits. I remember a Dumbledore being a big trouble for Thomas, and what happened to Thomas?” Salazar asked. 

“Well,” Harry chuckled mirthlessly. “Dumbledore has fucked up big time,” he says, not caring for his vulgar language for once. “He has manipulated my life so much, but he will not be in power for more than a few months. As for Tom, he seems to have created several horcruxes. He attacked me when I was a child,” he moves his fringe to reveal his famous scar. “I am now a horcrux myself.” Godric gasped in horror while Salazar’s eyes widened. “According to test results at Gringotts anyhow. But I think he may currently be riding on the back of my Defense teacher’s head, if I’m being honest,” he admits sheepishly. The pair seems extremely horrified by that prospect. 

“And why do you think that?” 

“Well, every time the back of his head is to me, my scar hurts really painfully in some cases, most of the times it’s just a mild headache. The goblins explained, when I asked, this is likely because I’m somehow coming into contact with another part of his soul. It’s the only explanation I could come up with,” Harry shrugs. 

Salazar stands contemplating for a minute before nodding his head. “That would make sense. Now that that business is done with, tell us, how does Slytherin house treat you?” 

“I only have one friend who is in Gryffindor and the rest of the school hates me,” Harry answers truthfully. “Slytherins hate me for several reasons; the first being that I destroyed the Dark Lord. Secondly, I disrespected House Malfoy by refusing to be friends with their spoilt, pompous prat of an heir, who didn’t show me any form of respect despite knowing I, myself, am Heir Potter. Everybody seems to follow his rule in that house so nobody wishes to go against him because his biggest threat is that he’ll  _ tell his father about this _ . Honestly I feel sorry for Lord Malfoy if he is hearing everything that happened leading up to that phrase leaving his son’s mouth,” Harry scoffed. “And the Potions Professor, who is our Head of House, relentlessly picks on me and tries to humiliate me despite me proving I know the answers. No matter how well I know I do and how often my essays are exactly what he wanted to know, he marks me down and gives me poor grades. He takes my being in your house personally. The rest of the school simply thinks me a traitor to my parents and The Light by being Slytherin,” he shrugs. “Actually I was wondering what power I have as Heir to the Founders.” 

“Well you would need the others’ approval for many things,” Godric hesitates, and Harry perks up. 

“Actually I am! My grandmother was a Black and my Godfather blood adopted me when I was really young and they both come from the side of the Black family who married into the Ravenclaw line, and as the only heir from that side, I am Ravenclaw’s heir. As for Hufflepuff, my grandmother was a squib from the Smith family, and while disowned, their family used to be all about fair inheritance up until a couple of generations ago. By disowning my grandmother from being able to have the title of Lady Hufflepuff despite being the rightful heir, they forfeited it until somebody worthy of the line was available to take it. I am also Hufflepuff’s heir, therefore,” Harry explained. 

“How fascinating,” Godric murmured. “All of our blood. What other titles did you inherit?” 

“In order of importance: Emrys, Peverell, The Founders, Black, and Potter,” Harry grinned. “It adds to a total of thirty-nine votes in the Wizengamot which Dumbledore has been using illegally, but that means every bill voted on by him in the past ten years or so is going to have to be re-voted on, and he will lose his place as Chief Warlock because he abused my votes without my permission to get the position in the first place.” 

“A very intelligent plan,” Salazar nods approvingly. “Tell me, what other plans do you have?” 

* * *

Harry visited his Grandpa (Godric insisted he call him that) and Grandfather (Salazar wasn’t quite as insistent) every three days at least, as long as he wasn’t noticed too often, but he had mastered a disillusionment charm so it was okay. Sometimes he would stay on a Saturday night and get funny looks when he turned up at lunch the next day. 

He got mail from Sirius weekly, talking about anything and everything, to which Harry would reply, and Sirius always made sure to reassure Harry that he was on track to be able to leave before summer began, something which Harry was thankful for. 

It wasn’t something he had explicitly stated, that he had been abused and neglected and forced to live in a cupboard under the stairs, but it was heavily implied as to why he had no desire to return to the house he had been in for the past ten years, and Sirius seemed to understand and worked even harder to make sure he was okay so that he got the approval. 

He made sure, still, to study with Neville and be friends with him, never leaving him out for a moment, explaining what he had found. Neville and he shared a good laugh when they heard Weasley trying to find a way to save the philosopher’s stone from Snape. Harry knew it was actually Quirrell going after the stone, but he wasn’t about to stop the plans. Apparently there was a three-headed dog on the third floor initially stopping anybody getting past. Something told him it was also Tom who met him in the forest that night he had a stare-off with a figure before being whisked away to the bank. 

He’s still not going to say anything. 

Grandfather told him he could take portkeys from the chamber since it was outside of the castle wards, technically, so when it came to the end of exams - which he’s sure he scored almost-perfect in - a week before the end of school, Harry found himself there at one in the morning facing off with his grandfathers in their portrait. 

“I want you to come,” Harry insisted. 

“Are you sure?” Godric asked again.

“Positive. Not only will it stop you from seeing the same thing day in day out, it might also take whatever charm is on your portrait off and then you can go around once more.” 

“Fine,” Salazar relented. “Put us in your trunk but I swear to Merlin you need to take us out as soon as we arrive.” He was clearly trying to not look like he was sulking and keep his commanding tone, so Harry smiled and nodded, knowing he was probably worried about the journey and how it might affect them as portraits. 

Harry hadn’t told Sirius about the possibility of bringing two of the founders with him, but he didn’t want to say they probably were only for them to not, so it was a surprise. 

The portkey had a set phrase which would activate it, so as soon as he was ready with his trunk and all files and draft bills by Tom in a separate bag, he spoke, “Mischief Managed,” clearly, before being whisked away to the atrium of the bank once more, where Sirius was waiting for him at the entrance to one of the corridors. 

Harry grinned and almost ran towards him, but kept his pace quick and light before throwing his arms around Sirius’ middle. Granted he had never met the man, but he had also received reports from Amelia Bones - as the only person aside from his doctors allowed to know his progress - talking about how many improvements he had made. And with the letters they had exchanged, he could easily say that the man was a fourth father-figure in his life aside from his birth father and his grandfathers. 

They were meeting up with the Potter account manager who would give them a portkey to both the chalet in France and the villa in Italy - since they decided they would spent most of their time in the chalet, and their summers in Italy. 

Sirius already had a list of tutors for things Harry said he wanted to learn but couldn’t be taught by Sirius or self-taught well, and it had kept him occupied to do that sort of thing while stuck in Saint Mungo's.

Once they arrived, however, the first thing they did was find their rooms and go to sleep, since both were surprisingly tired, though Harry managed to remain awake enough to take the portrait from his trunk, if only to lean it against the wall on his desk next to the door. 

They had already arranged with Amelia Bones for him to take his OWLs at fourteen in the Ministry, but he’d also be taking exams offered at the French Ministry too, since they were more substantial in the eyes of the European standards. 

* * *

The first day Harry didn’t go to classes in the last week of school, people assumed he was ill or simply sulking or throwing a fit - something along the lines that he was still in school since he hadn’t made it seem otherwise, transfiguring some of Limi’s shed scales into a replica of his trunk, with her permission, to make it seem that way. 

What he was actually doing was introducing Sirius to Salazar and Godric and exploring the chalet with them once they found they could, in fact, walk through and among other magical paintings in the chalet - which was all of them in some manner. They all spent time speaking to the various portraits as well, making sure to introduce himself, as well as putting his knowledge of the French language to practice for the first time since the half-hearted lessons they were given in years four through six in primary school.

The second day, the Slytherins were questioned on his whereabouts, while Harry was shopping with Sirius (who was under a mild glamour for the next few days) buying new clothes before they started a bonfire inside, but warded off to not spread area, so that all the portraits could watch his old clothes burn since they had been appalled at what he told them about his home life before now. It was a satisfying experience to say the least. 

The third day is when Dumbledore questioned the professors on where he could possibly be, while Sirius and Harry met with tutors for various subjects to decide if they were up to standard to teach him. 

The fourth day, timed for when Harry was sure that a large amount of people would be in the hall to hear the letter he had Sirius charm (so that it would definitely work) which he had written to Dumbledore explaining his absence. He didn’t want to send it on the last day as he was unsure how many people would be last-minute packing and so who would be present to his (hopefully) large humiliation. 

* * *

_ Dear Professor Dumbledore,  _ Harry’s voice spoke calmly into the hall when it arrived, right on time. 

_ I’m sure that you’ve already worked out who this letter is from if you recognise my voice. I’m also sure that you, if nobody else, is wondering where I am. Well, to answer that question, it is simple: I am in the Potter Chalet in France with my godfather.  _

_ Now, to answer your multitude of questions, firstly, we have to address your list of crimes. Against me, they are many, against others? Innumerable. So, we’ll focus on the crimes committed against me.  _

_ Firstly, there was the illegal incarceration of my godfather, Sirius Black. He is innocent of all crimes he was accused of. Thanks to Miss Bones, Head of the DMLE, at my request he got a trial under veritaserum. Also at my request, I asked you to not be involved for the simple reason that you had interfered before and would no doubt do it again. She agreed. Therefore anybody else involved was put under a fidelius charm to be unable to speak of the situation with myself being the one to say when it could be dissolved. It has been.  _

_ Second was my illegal placement with abusive relatives at your request, insisting I was safe when I so obviously was not when I have had to always rely on my magic to heal me since they would never take me to the doctor unless  _ **_absolutely_ ** _ necessary.  _

_ The fact that you’ve stolen more than twenty thousand galleons to give to various people, including the Weasley family  parents and youngest two, not the other five children, and my previously mentioned abusive relatives, on top of various items - but mostly books and family relics from all of my vaults. Once this letter has been sent, the process to retrieve everything will begin. I expect your office will be quite bare by the time the goblin magic activates. Not to mention if anything has been sold then you  _ **_will_ ** _ owe the money it was worth to me. I have no doubt you will be eternally in my debt after that.  _

_ Next is the fact I was never told about my heritage and it was thanks to Neville - my only friend at this entire school - that I knew to get into contact with the goblins. I can understand why you didn’t want me to know.  _

_ Which leads onto your next crimes: illegally placing yourself as my magical guardian and writing up fake permissions for you to use my votes. All thirty-nine of them. As heir to the Emrys, Peverell, Founders, Potter, and Black lines, I simply had too much power in your opinion - power you wanted, and used to elevate yourself to Chief Warlock. You will be stripped of this position come next week.  _

_ Now, as I own the school, I could do whatever I wanted to it. Frankly I could shut it down as a school and use it as my own personal residence, however I won’t of course. As terrible as the education system is, young witches and wizards still need a place to learn, instead I will just say this: Albus Dumbledore, as Harrison James Potter-Black, Heir to Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw, I am hereby putting you under investigation for the quality of education being received in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the next five years. I will be the one to judge if it is up to the standards I expect from a school which was once considered one of the best in Europe. However, I will no longer be in attendance and have already made arrangements for my examinations in three and four years time in both France and Britain. While I will not be in attendance, I will be visiting at least once a month as, firstly, it is well within my rights, secondly, I have to visit Feidlimid, as well as Neville. You should also be made aware that I have sent letters to every member of the school board informing them of these facts.  _

_ While on the topic of education quality, Severus Snape will also be under investigation, because from what I have seen and heard, he is highly unqualified to be a teacher - not in the fact regarding his Masters, that is actually very impressive even I have to admit, however he is cruel to students not from his own house, more biased than any other teacher, and, frankly, a rude and horrible person; not to mention his inability to put childish fights behind him simply because his so-called rival grew up and managed to win the affection of the girl they had both been pining after for several years, therefore taking it out on an eleven year old simply because he was related to two people he hated, therefore trying to humiliate him and mark him down despite him proving himself a good student, never mind simply competent at the subject. Yes that is a reference to myself, however the amount of favouritism or bias you show is simply disgusting: you are a  _ **_teacher_ ** _ , a  _ **_role model and educator_ ** _ , you should be helping and encouraging your students, not insulting and sabotaging them. Yes, Potions is a complicated and potentially dangerous subject but you are putting more students in danger by expecting them - muggleborns included - to already be competent and know what to do, expect them to know the consequences of adding a wrong ingredient by accident. You punished Neville more for a small mistake than Crabbe and Goyle when they caused a mild explosion.  _

_ Back to Dumbledore; I expect you to stop fuelling this stupid and petty rivalry between the houses on a more fundamental level than quidditch games and competitions. Did you know that Godric and Salazar were in a relationship? And that they had two children, one to carry on each of their Family Lines. This means that Voldemort is as much Godric’s heir as I am, while I am Salazar’s as much as he is. Furthermore, Dark Wizards and evil wizards are two different things. Granted, Voldemort did turn a little evil in the end, what with wanting the destruction of Muggles and Muggleborns, but that one wasn’t his fault, he simply split his soul too many times, and  _ **_should he wish to put it back together again then he will have to work fast_ ** _.  _

_ I, personally, am a Dark-Grey wizard at the very least, simply because of how I was raised: in an abusive household. I don’t care who says what, who calls me a traitor, I trust Sirius when he says my parents would be  _ **_proud_ ** _ of who I am, and who I will be. Even if they wouldn’t be, he is, and Godric and Salazar are, and that’s what matters.  _

_ I would support Voldemort, should he get his sanity back. If not, then I will happily redraft all of the bills he wished to put forward, or planned to, which I found in the Chamber, and I will put them forward myself, or via Sirius - my Magical Guardian and Proxy for votes. They are pure genius in some cases, and the majority are about protecting ourselves from muggles.  _

_The wizarding world has no understanding just how damaging the muggle world can be, and should they find ways to find us, which with the way their technological advancements are going, they will do eventually. And we will not be prepared with the way this world is so stuck in it’s ways. In Britain at least. He was raised in muggle London during World War Two. Do you realize how bloody terrifying that must have been?! Bombs were being dropped with so little warning for them that he had the chance of dying_ ** _at the hands of muggles_** _, who, frankly, are inferior to us - biologically at the very least. The thing that they have above us is their ability to adapt. We still use quills and parchment. Do you not see_ ** _issues_** _with these things?_

_ Anyway, I’ve gone off topic. My point is that he was a genius, and he was onto something  _ **_much_ ** _ longer than any of you have been since you’re so delusional and living in your own little world. Did the witch hunts in America and Britain mean nothing to you people? Even I learnt about them in primary school, and that was a  _ **_muggle_ ** _ school. Granted they don’t believe in witches and wizards anymore but they still learn about them. Think about that but on the larger and more painful, more experimental level, how much pain they could cause us and our world. The fallout would be devastating and we’d be lucky to have a community left quite frankly.  _

_ I’ve honestly forgotten where I was going with this except for the fact you all need to educate yourselves properly on possible threats to this world, your world, our world.  _

_ I imagine that the papers have arrived at some point during this exceedingly long letter and you’ll find Sirius’ release detailed within I’m sure.  _

_ If you try to get out of the charges placed against you, you will not like the result.  _

_ Also, from now on, I declare Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, an enemy of the Houses Emrys, Peverell, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Black, and Potter, so mote it be.  _

_ Sincerely,  _

_ Harrison James Potter-Black, _

_ Heir to Houses Emrys, Peverell, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Black, and Potter.  _

* * *

The, technically, last day of school, completely unaware of the actual reaction he had caused, Harry and Sirius spent the day doing touristy things Harry wanted to do around Paris since he had never had the chance to do anything like that. 

It was nice, and when he fell asleep on Sirius that evening, he didn’t have the heart to wake him, or carry him to his own room with how tightly he was gripping Sirius’ shirt, so he ended up falling asleep with Harry laid over his lap and himself slumped over the arm of the sofa. 

* * *

The next two days were spent packing for their summer in Italy, as well as Harry learning the piano from Sirius. 

“I had to learn two instruments as a child,” he explains. “It was probably the one thing I could do well in my parents’ eyes, so I used to try hard to earn their approval with it until I realised that unless I was good at everything else they wanted me to be good at, I would never be seen as the heir in their eyes and I gave up trying to earn their approval. I acted as though I didn’t practice anymore, but there’s a room in Hogwarts - the Room of Requirement, did you ever go there?” 

“No, Grandpa and Grandfather told me about it and explained how it worked, but I never saw the need to visit,” Harry explained from his seat besides Sirius on the piano bench as he played River Flows In You. 

“Well, whenever I had a spare moment because everybody else was busy, or I couldn’t sleep at night so I snuck out of the tower, I went there and would either play piano or violin. Maybe both if I was in the mood. Your grandparents seemed to enjoy it when I played violin, so I always liked playing for them. James was never musically inclined to be honest, he just couldn’t hear when he was off-key,” Sirius laughed. “His parents didn’t let him learn anything after the house elves complained - again.” Harry grinned. It was nice to hear things about his parents - his dad more so, but Sirius knew about Lily as well - other than ‘they were good at transfiguration’ or ‘you have your mother’s eyes’. Yes, he knows these things. “I remember one time, James knew I was in the room but Lily was with me. She had followed me and I hadn’t noticed because I...wasn’t having a good day, to put it lightly. I just wanted to play something and calm down. She followed me and heard me playing and she recognised the song, so started singing; her voice was that of angels I swear, and I don’t even believe in Christianity or their God,” he laughed lightly. ”It was in sixth year, and your mum was being very tentative with how to address your father, but he simply offered her his hand and they began to dance around the room, nothing too strenuous as he still wanted her to continue singing and not be out of breath for it. It was...beautiful. A month later he asked her on a date and she accepted and the rest is history.” 

A couple of tears rolled down his face, but he was smiling, but Harry wasn’t quite as able to withhold his tears although he was also smiling. The picture it painted was one of simple domesticity, one like he has flashes of when he was a baby. 

He leaned on Sirius’ shoulder and wished, not for the first time, that his parents were there. But he had Sirius, and that was what mattered right now. 

* * *

Two weeks later found Sirius waking Harry up and complaining about a raven with a letter not allowing him to get near, which means Tom had probably sent a letter, since all letters were going through Gringotts first, and only letters from the ministry, Neville, and Tom were to be let through. 

And, frankly, only Tom was dramatic enough to send a raven.   
  


_ Harrison, _

_ I hope you don’t mind the familiarity, however I feel that we are familiar enough with each other from a distance to speak this way.  _

_ Anyway, I wish to thank you for such... _ **_kind_ ** _ words, that day you sent the letter, and also thank you for not revealing truly everything about my past, as I’m sure Salazar would have told you everything about myself that I told him. Godric, if not him. It probably was him, actually.  _

_ And, thank you for the advice. I was able to get the philosopher’s stone as it was being kept in the school and without you playing the Gryffindor Dumbledore wished for you to be, he was unable and unexpecting of my ability to get it - even with a handicap such as Quirrell. This allowed me to get my own body, and reclaiming my first few accessible horcruxes gave me back my mind and morality. I admit that I wasn’t initially thinking when I began to make them, and it only got worse with each new one created I’m sure you can imagine. From the wards I set up after I left, it was made obvious that I was not the only one who took your words to heart.  _

_ I wish for us to meet up in person so that we can speak and come to agreements together if you wish to do as you said and work together. I will also need the majority of my drafts back, admittedly, but after I killed Myrtle I was unable to go back and retrieve them and I currently have no ideas as to where my other copies will be.  _

_ Of course, I will swear to not attempt to harm you, however it is unnecessary since, as my technical heir, I am unable to harm you without repercussions - as we saw when I tried to kill you as a child. Automatically the youngest person eligible for the heir position becomes so if the Lord is still alive. You became my heir as soon as you took your first breath. If you hadn’t have been born then it would be your father who would not have died.  _

_ I also wish to apologize, in person, for my actions against your family. I was not in my right mind as we’ve already established, however it does not take back my actions. I do have something that will allow you, and your godfather, to talk to them as often as they wish. I’m not sure if you have heard of the resurrection stone, however it was said that Death gave the three Peverell brother a boon each and Cadmus, my ancestor and the middle brother, where yours was Ignotus and the eldest brother was Antioch, asked for something to bring back the dead so he could have his dead fiancé back, but he could only summon her soul. However it works for if you wish to talk with the deceased, though I will warn you about having them in the mortal world for more than several hours at a time. That can be discussed in more detail later though.  _

_ I’m sure there are other things to discuss as well, but you can make the arrangements. I swear on my magic this is no trap and while I will not bring anybody to accompany me to meet you, you can bring your godfather if it will make you more comfortable.  _

_ Yours Sincerely,  _

_ Marvolo Riddle,  _

_ Lord LeFay, Lord Slytherin, Lord Gaunt.  _

* * *

 

“It’s a letter from Tom, but he’s going by his middle name. Understandable I guess,” Harry tells Sirius once he’s read through it once. 

“What does he want?” Sirius asked. 

“To apologize to me in person about my parents. He also wants to discuss a couple of things, but he was also partly thanking me for my words in my letter and telling him to get his horcruxes. He also offered us a way to speak to my parents. The resurrection stone from Cadmus Peverell. Cadmus was his ancestor and the stone was, presumably, passed through the line. He’s offering to give it to me, us, so that we can speak to them whenever we want,” Harry’s throat tightened at the thought. 

“Well, we suspected they existed at least since that’s in the Potter history and how you came into possession of the cloak,” Sirius offers. 

“I know.” Neither say anything for a few minutes. 

“Do you want to meet him?” Sirius asks. 

“I do. I want to hear it from his mouth. I want to hear him apologize,” Harry tells him determinedly. “Do you want to come? He said you could if you wanted to,” Harry adds. 

“No, this is something between you and him, I think. But I’ll drop you off and then go buy your birthday presents.” Harry blushed at the mention of them. He’d insisted he didn’t need anything, but Sirius said he could either give suggestions or he’d buy the most expensive stuff from every store he saw. Harry told him he had enjoyed their flying lessons but never got to do more than the basics, so he figures Sirius will get him stuff to do with that. “But it’s probably best to either meet in the Italian wizarding district, the French, or just the muggle world. Though I still advise avoiding England for the time being to be honest.”  Harry nods. 

“Okay then. And then I’ll be able to tell him I’m a horcrux as well,” Harry nods decisively, before going to pen a letter to Marvolo. 

* * *

_ Marvolo, _

_ I’m fine with you calling me Harrison, or Harry, as long as I am granted the same courtesy.  _

_ As for knowing of the three brothers, I of course knew since the stories are passed through my family - though admittedly Sirius was the one to tell me for obvious reasons. Not to mention that, upon my fifteenth birthday I get to inherit the title of Lord Peverell, I would be a fool to not know what my family was found upon, even if we are the only two descendents left of the original lines. Therefore, I will graciously accept the gift you are giving me.  _

_ There is no need to thank me for my words as I only wanted you back in your right mind, therefore I will agree to meet up with you as, not only do I want to hear your apology (something I will admit to, so far, finding myself wanting an indescribable amount, it will satisfy me a great deal I am unashamed to say) but we also need to discuss why you went after the three of us in the first place. However since you have granted me an oath then I shall do the same: I swear on my magic that I will cause no harm to Marvolo Riddle, so mote it be.  _

_ I also did not reveal all of your information out of sheer politeness. If our positions were reversed, I would hope that you would not spill my deepest secrets that happened in my old house if you happened to find them out. Announcing “I’m abused” to a hall of people when I am not even there to see their reactions is not the same as knowing what happened in the house. _

_ There are a number of other things to discuss of course, so I will also bring all the files I took which you had left in the office.  _

_ As for Sirius coming, he isn’t, however he will drop me off before going to buy a gift for my birthday and I will portkey back to the villa when we’re finished with the meeting. On that matter, though, my snake may be coming. She is called Ridley - inadvertently and accidentally named after you, actually, I think subconsciously.  _

_ As for where we meet, you can be the one to decide. Sirius suggested either France or Italy, magical or muggle world, as long as it’s not England. Not only are you less likely to be recognised (if people can even recognise you?) but people are less likely to recognise me and glamours are uncomfortable to wear so I refuse to meet anywhere where somebody could come up and try to speak to me like they did my first (and only proper) day in the British wizarding world.  _

_ Yours Sincerely, _

_ Harry Potter-Black, _

_ Heirs Emrys, Peverell, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Black, and Potter.  _

* * *

A week later Harry was walking into a nice, but rather private and expensive, café in muggle France after Sirius dropped him off just across the street before kissing his forehead and apparating off again to get gifts. 

“Harrison,” Marvolo greets with a smile, when Harry is led to the secluded table in the back. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt with a grey waistcoat and smart black pants, and he looks like, what he assumes, he did when he was younger. Early to mid-twenties if he had to take a guess, with smooth brown waves and angular but soft-looking features, which give an almost innocent air to him. His eyes are bright blue, but there are flecks of red in them - a side effect, he had read, from learning the Dark Arts, but can be covered with a powerful glamour. 

“Marvolo,” Harry greets with a nod, ordering some water with ice to start with for a drink, while Marvolo orders a coffee. Harry himself is wearing a dark blue shirt which is rolled up to his elbows, with black skinny jeans and combat-style boots, a jacket draped along the back of his chair which was previously on his arm. 

“How are you?” Harry asks politely, before looking over the menu he’s brought, moving his new glasses up his nose - Sirius insisted he needed new ones at the very least, if he wasn’t going to correct his eyesight, and Harry agreed because he didn’t want to just get rid of them since he would constantly be going to push them up his nose when they’re not there otherwise. So he has large silver ones, round still since Sirius (and the sales assistant?) had the idea that it brought out his boyish charm while also being handsomely charming. Harry didn’t honestly know what that meant but he trusted the sales assistant if he didn’t trust Sirius for that. 

“I’m fine, feeling a lot better considering I was a wraith floating around for the previous nine and a half years and then spent it on the back of your Defense professor’s head,” Marvolo smirked, after putting up a privacy ward which would automatically let the waitress through. 

“I can imagine. Glad I didn’t have to see you like that,” Harry smirks back. 

Marvolo hums. “And yourself?” 

“Never better, actually. Sirius took me shopping for proper clothes and personal stuff I’ve always wanted but never had, I’ve been learning to play violin from Sirius with various portraits around the villa chiming in every so often. I was seen by a Healer who managed to fix all of my bones that had healed wrong over the years, and I only have to be on nutrient potions for six months as opposed to the year they originally thought I would have to be on them for. In September I begin learning with my tutors for all the things I’ve missed and all the things I want to learn, like politics. Can’t get tutors for everything mind you, but Sirius figures I can easily learn myself if I get the books for it,” Harry explained. 

“Oh? Like what?” 

Harry gives the man an appraising look. “Dark Arts and Parselmagic,” he says with a shrug. The waitress comes and they place their orders, Harry getting an apple chicken salad and Marvolo ordering a chicken caesar salad. “Grandfather can help me well-enough when it comes to the theory of them, but he cannot demonstrate them - what with being a portrait at all - and it was decided while it was unlikely that something would go wrong if I was practicing the spells, we don’t want something to go wrong and I end up hurting myself.” 

“Isn’t your godfather a Black?” Marvolo asked with a raised eyebrow before taking a sip. 

“Yes, but he did not want to learn Dark Arts as intensely as Walburga wanted him to and she was refusing to go slow with it and let him build up, so he ended up running away to my dad’s, so again, he knows the theory, but cannot demonstrate it.” 

“I could teach you, you know,” he offers after several moments of contemplation while staring at one another. 

“Yes, I do know. I also know that you would make a good teacher, if those notes you made down in the chamber are anything to go by,” Harry grins cheekily, cheeks pushing his glasses upwards, and Marvolo flushes while looking away. “I am kind of sorry you didn’t get the role though, you really would have been good from what Grandfather told. How did it feel being on such an incompetent teacher’s head?” Harry asks curiously. 

“It was awful,” he huffs. “However if I had gotten the position I wouldn’t have cursed it and yet a similar set of events would probably have followed except this time I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to get the stone,” he admits. 

“You cursed the position?” 

“Did you not hear stories of how there was always a new teacher every year?” 

“Barely; nobody spoke to me, remember?” 

“Yes,” he hums. “Well, the first time I applied for the job I was just a few months out of school and I can admit I didn’t have the real-world experience to say I could do the job at the time. So Dippet told me to come back in five years - I did, except Dumbledore was now Headmaster and had been for just over a year and Dippet had died just a couple of months earlier. So he denied me on the same basis, except his was a preface because I had gotten more than enough experience. I went back five years later again and he dismissed me without even looking at what qualified me for the position, so I cursed the job and took Ravenclaw’s Lost Diadem to use as another horcrux out of spite.” 

“You wish for me to retrieve this for you?” 

“I was planning to do it myself at some point, but if you can get it easier and before me, then yes.”

“There are some other things you should know about your horcruxes: the first being, I am one, and secondly, Regulus Black stole the Locket horcrux from wherever it was hidden and ordered the Black family elf to destroy it,” he holds up a finger, halting any words about to come out. “He didn’t manage to and I have it.” He reaches into his left jacket pocket, which was hanging heavy with the locket before handing it over with a smile. 

“Go back to that first point - you’re a horcrux?” Marvolo’s voice is strained and he looks slightly paler than before. 

“Hm? Oh, yes. I don’t know why or how, presumably your soul was just too small when you came to killing me and it split off. Nothing bad has ever happened in regards to it and it is still there so presumably I haven’t died any point for it to be destroyed. That being said, it’s so entwined with my own soul that you cannot remove it from me without destroying it unfortunately. Killing me to retrieve it is pointless, but I plan to keep it safe so there is no need to worry over it. Besides, now you have one guarantee after even having absorbed all other pieces. Though I doubt you will allow yourself to die so easily ever again.” Harry almost wants to mock him, honestly, but feels that would be too cruel on a sore spot of his untimely (though entirely self-inflicted) demise at the tiny, chubby hands of a fifteen-month old who never even lifted a finger. 

“And what should happen if you inadvertently die on me at some point?. Accident, or most likely, murder.”  

“Marvolo it is less than one percent of your soul. I do not believe it would affect you in any way unless you became emotionally attached, in which case you would emotionally grieve just as everybody else,” Harry tells him, rolling his eyes at such a notion coming from man who, from what Grandfather had told him, was borderline psychopathic. Sociopathic at the very least. 

“I suppose you have a point,” he admitted with a slight sigh. The food arrived just seconds later and they moved on to more light hearted topics, and the drafts that Harry brought to give him. They discussed pros and cons and where they needed to be modernized - they would have worked well in the forties and fifties but now needed an update. 

Once their meals had been taken and they ordered their final drinks to have before leaving, Marvolo put the ring box on the table for Harry to take. And then another two boxes. One of them being quite large. 

The ring was gorgeous, in his opinion, and he was unsurprised that the Gaunt family had chosen to keep it close and never allow anybody to see it. 

“I have removed any curses I had placed on it years ago as well as removed the horcrux from it,” Marvolo told him quietly, and Harry smiled across at him. 

“Thank you.” 

The next box opened to reveal a pair of arm rings, presumably pure gold, with, again, presumably real emeralds as eyes. 

“They have various protection charms on them to guard you against any intense mental magics and mild-to-harmful curses you may be unprepared of. They can partially defend against the stronger curses, however not the unforgivables.” 

“They are beautiful,” says Harry. 

The third box holds a necklace. It is simple; a silver chain with a green quartz crystal attached to it by a base around the stone. 

“A portkey, to Slytherin Castle. I do not know if you had one of your own already, and thought it prudent to give you one. It can take you and one other person as long as their blood is placed on it beforehand. It is also your castle, after all.” 

“I didn’t have one. I have yet to look through all of the vaults. No time before and no real need to right now. After all, I finally have a competent guardian who is not looking to steal from me or give my money away to weaklings, or those incompetent of anything.” 

“Yes, I can imagine that it would be quite nice. I obviously never had that at your age, but it did feel good to provide for myself once I found out about my vaults. Dumbledore was taking from those, too. Thinking that if he hid the knowledge of the vaults from me that I would never discover it or his stealing from them. The general Hogwarts fund, too. Really, the man needs to go.” 

“ _ Really _ , the man needs to die,” he drawls, sarcastic in tone but genuine in his words. “He has no sense of how the world is progressing, only if it would end with him being in charge.” 

“I never said the man wouldn’t die. Only that he needs to go. The pleasure shall be ours, to rid the world of him. You’ve already done wonders for his reputation, which is slowly making it’s way through the drain. Granted, there are still those- ah, how to put it? Hard-core fans of his, his devotees, the sycophants who try to suck up to him by bending over his desk for him.” 

“No doubt literally, and not just figuratively,” Harry says, surprising Marvolo in that he understood it, since it slipped out in an accidental slip of the mouth. The shock must show on his face just a little because Harry rolls his eyes. “Please, first of all, I’m twelve and I can listen to others’ conversations quite easily without them noticing I’m there, meaning older students speak without a filter and you tend to pick things up that way. Secondly, my Uncle was unfortunately as homophobic as you can get and it’s unsurprising that he would hurl those insults at me continuously, telling me how I would make him a pretty penny come this summer, especially for whoever bought my virginity - who knows if he’s realised I’m not coming back but I do hope that I get to trial him under goblin law. Wouldn’t that be fun?” Harry smirked before letting his face fall with a sigh. 

“Are these the disgusting muggles you were telling your snake about?” Marvolo’s words are practically hissed, but Harry just shoots him a look. 

“Of course, but there is not much I can do until they’ve been questioned and possibly given trial. Vile people of course, but there’s not exactly anything I can do now that I made their abuse public. It would be too obvious if I were to have them disappear - made to look like an accident or not; whether I hired a muggle or not.” 

“Yes, I suppose so. Thought if you do get them trials and sentences in Azkaban, I’m sure that they could be made sure to suffer more than enough,” Marvolo smirked, picking up the one that Harry let drop. 

“I’m sure I could. Especially with that little tidbit coming to light. How do I assure they do get trials and veritaserum?” 

“You can leave that to me. I assure you they will get what’s coming to them somehow, even if you, I, or your father are not the ones to enact the justice you deserve.” He heaved a sigh at the idea of not getting to torture some muggles, but was quick to acquiesce.

Harry hummed as he took a drink of a raspberry and white belgian chocolate frappe créme through the straw. 

He looks out of the front windows to the café and sighs happily, content in this warm feeling in his chest. Not caused by Marvolo directly, but by his entire situation at the moment. The knowledge that he is safe and away from people who would seek to cause him harm. He has no need to go back to his horrendous life, the way it was before. 

He has already made it past the allotted time period in which he is going to wake up and wonder if everything was a dream. However, if it were then it is one he is not going to wake up from. Something about that idea doesn’t exactly seem unpleasant. The idea of returning to a life so unlike this one makes him feel sick, and he would rather not wake up if that were an option. 

“Well, Marvolo, this has been lovely, but I really must be getting back to the villa. I’m beginning to miss the warm sun of laying out and doing nothing but drink smoothies and milkshakes all day,” Harry states plainly, looking his future tutor in the eye. “Consider taking more of a break yourself before jumping right into politics once more. You have had your body for less than a month, still. Plus, there are things we must arrange if we are to work together and you are to tutor me, yes? I’ll be sure to send a portkey - you won’t be able to get on the property the first time without it. Even then you will be the only one of my tutors to not have to use the portkey should you not wish to once we key you into the wards,” Harry explains. 

Then he stands, not waiting to be dismissed and walks back to the alley he arrived in, activating his own portkey with his drink still in his hand, thankful he’d ordered it to go. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it, feel free to comment/kudos your thoughts and ideas about it. I was initially gonna make it so much longer and go into details about what Harry does and what he learns and what else he may get up to while growing up in France and Italy rather than England and I was like....can I do that??? I couldn't really think of enough to fill up a larger fic so I thought I might simply post this one with it's relatively happy ending. I am probably gonna write more and post it as a series eventually, little snippets of what might happen and whatnot so that there are different things viewed as a part of it but I haven't written anything else yet despite ideas. If you have any then I'll see what I can do though I make no promises.
> 
> I know that a couple of things in here contradict one another but hey...oh well??? I am kinda sorry about that but not enough to go back and change it. 
> 
> Also I feel like I've alluded a lot to manners and rudeness and how important they are to Harry, but that's honestly because I've been watching too much Hannibal and reading too much Hannigram lately and I admit that's a fault of mine at the minute and I let it become ingrained into this fic so to speak but I don't really see that as a bad thing particularly, just, that's why it might vaguely remind you of something like that and if you couldn't work it out or whatever. 
> 
> Raspberry and white chocolate anything is fucking delicious, but I literally based the muffins on ones I get at morrisons up in town and the drink that Harry has at the very end on the exact same drink at Cafe Nero - it doesn't have any coffee in it at all which is why I allowed Harry to drink it because do eleven year olds drink coffee??? Plus it's fucking delicious so, Harry is gonna drink that shit and enjoy it because they are nice to taste. 
> 
> Anyway, if you wanna hit me up on tumblr then mine is @sweetassaliens just so ya know. Anywho thanks for reading!


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